


New and Old Scars

by Miss_V_257



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Former Slave, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:41:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23454193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_V_257/pseuds/Miss_V_257
Summary: As the Queen’s maid servant you have many things on your mind. The past haunts you, and the future is uncertain, but one thing is for sure, you and your queen share scars neither of you expected.(This is my first fic ever! Any advice is highly appreciated!)
Relationships: Calanthe Fiona Riannon/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. First Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Like I said, this is my first time writing a fic or publishing my writing of any kind! I would love to hear any advice or feedback! Iam obsessed with Calanthe, and the Witcher in general, but I love how complex she is even though she didn’t get a ton of screen time! So I hope you like it!
> 
> Calanthe returns from battle with a fresh scar, before asking about yours.

You hear her before anything, the clinking of her armor after battle. You wait patiently as she walks into the room, her footsteps heavy from the armor covering her. Your breath stops as she walks into the room. She is covered in blood, it’s splattered across her face, her chest plate, down to her boots. She looks at you. “Y/N, help me get this off.” You nod and move quickly, rushing to her side. “Of course, your majesty.” You begin with the gauntlets, your fingers sliding past her pulse as you make quick work of them. You move behind her to remove the shoulder pieces, unlatching the leather bindings and laying them on the table next to you. You move in to the chestplate, easing it off of her. You stop, the air escaping you once again. Her shirt is covered in blood, but this time it is her blood you are seeing. It’s trickling down her shoulder now that the pressure is off of it. She has a cut down at the top of her shoulder, where her muscles meet her neck. “Your majesty, you’re injured!” She chuckles, “I always am aren’t I?” You pull a chair from the table behind you. “Please, may I?” You ask tentatively. “And what would you know about mending battle wounds?” She asks you, her eyebrow lifting with the quirk of her lips. “Enough to know I need to stop the bleeding.” You say, surprised by how calm she is as the blood drips down her. She seems pleased enough with this answer, at least for now. You run to the adjoining bathroom and gather a small tub of water and cloths. You set to work, first cleaning the wound, then applying pressure. She hisses as you lean into her. “You’re stronger than you look.” She looks you dead in the eyes, you feel the blush begin to rush to your cheeks, looking down in hope she won’t see it. You place her hand on the cloth, “Hold it here, just give me a moment” you run over to the chest of drawers by the window, taking out a needle and thread. She watches you carefully, her eyes following your every move, you understand why they call her the lioness, you feel as if she may pounce on you any second. 

You head to the table agin, this time she turns to face you. “And what are you doing now?” She asks as you take out a small jar from your apron pocket. “It will numb your skin enough for me to stitch the wound.” You take some onto your fingers, slowly working the paste into a smoother mixture. “And you simply carry numbing cream with you wherever you go?” She says, a slight purr to her voice. You stop, not daring to look at her. “I’m afraid I have a few scars myself your majesty.” She tilts her head, looking you up and down. “Show me.” She demands, seemingly surprised that someone like you could have scars. “Your wound first, your majesty.” You quickly move behind her again. Rubbing the cream onto her skin around the cut. “Mmmm” she moans, letting her head roll to the side, giving you more space to work. “You ought to do this more often.” She says, a light smile on her face from your touch. You nearly stop as you see her face, so open, relaxed into your hands. She’s beautiful, you realize, you had always seen her as beautiful, but this was a beauty that not everyone got to see. The lioness at peace was possibly the most enchanting thing you had ever seen. You quickly grab the needle and thread, at first just testing to see if she feels anything. “Does that hurt?” You ask, as you press gently into her skin. “There’s pressure, but no pain.” She responds, you can feel her voice when she speaks, vibrating in you hands, a shiver runs up your spine. “Are you cold, Y/N?” She asks, knowing perfectly well there is a fire raging right next to the two of you. Her voice is unforgivingly low, a purr that strikes you right to your core “Not at all, your majesty.” You reply, biting back the urge to lean into her even more. You sew up the rest of the wound quickly before tying off the thread. You clean your work one more time, this time very gentle not to agitate the stitches. You take a long cloth you had gotten from the chest and begin to wrap her shoulder. “You’re shaking,” she says, a smile now growing on her face, as your hands move under her shirt. “Let me.” She smiles wider as she removes it, leaving her chest completely bare, the scars covering it shining in the firelight. She has a slight sheen of sweat still covering her body, her muscles shining in front of you. She’s hardly the first woman you’ve seen topless, but this isn’t just any woman. This is Calanthe, the lioness herself, bared in front of you. The wind has been sucked out of you. You nod slowly, your eyes wide, and countinue to wrap her shoulder. You step away when you finish.

“Where did you learn to do that?” She asks, “you’re not bad at it, you could be a physician if you wished.” You smile, “I was raised on the outskirts of Cintra, your majesty, I dealt with wounds often.” Her smile falls, “But why, you haven’t told me of any siblings, and your father wasnt in my army.” You look at her, shocked. “I, you, you pay attention?” You ask her. “Of course, why wouldn’t I pay attention to you?” She tilts her head again, this time slightly confused. “Anyone who sees you must want to give you attention.” You stand there, blood rushing in your ears. The woman you have longed for for years sitting in front of you, half undressed, and yet you feel naked in front of her. “Why would you deal with so many wounds?” She asks, not letting this go. “I, I was bought when I was ten, your majesty, and expected to take care of myself when I wasn’t serving a customer.” She looks at you, now the one with shock in her eyes. “You, you were a slave?” She asks, seemingly incredulous. “Yes, your majesty.” You look down, the shame biting your face. “No, don’t look away from me, don’t you look away from me Y/N.” Her voice is soft, but her words are firm. “Your scars...” she starts, eyes drifting over your body. “From punishments, for doing something wrong.” Her eyes darken, “I want to see them.” You hesitate, “im not sure” she cuts you off, “show me.” You turn away from her. Undoing you apron and placing on the table, then undoing your corset. She watches as you undo the ribbons, hands practiced, but shaking in front of her. You slowly lift your dress over your head. She gasps as the whip marks on your back are revealed, long lines across your spine, too many to count. You flinch at the sound. “Who did this to you.” It’s not a question, not from her lips. “I...” you start, only to be cut off again, “Who could do this to you?” Now it was a question, you turn to face her, there is a softness in her eyes you had never seen before. She rakes her eyes over your exposed body, and you turn red, realizing that’s you have just bared yourself to her. “You’re quite beautiful when you blush you know.” She smiles at you. Somehow you are taller than her sitting in her chair but still feel so small. “I...” you struggle to find the words. “No, it’s alright, I’ve had my eye on you for a while.” You squirm under her intense gaze. “Your majesty,” you begin, out of breath. “No,” she stops you, “you know my name, use it.” You gasp, “Calanthe, I...” she cuts you off again. “I see the way you look at me, I know.” You stare at her, her eyes dark, her hair a mess from battle, but she is now panting for an entirely different reason. “There are two options,” she begins. “You may take your things and leave, right now, and we will never speak of this again.” She pauses, you catch something In her eyes, a flash of hope, just before it vanishes. “Or, you come here and I show you how you ought to be treated.” You stare at her, those eyes boring into you. There is something behind them, desperation, she wants this, just as much as you do. You walk closer to her, leaning down to her as she sits. Her breath quickens, you look into her eyes one last time before you kiss her. It’s passionate, and desperate, you have been waiting so long. And she kisses you right back, with a fire only she could possess.


	2. His Marks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up laying next to her, but will she stand beside you?

You wake up with a start, at first not realizing where you are. The bed is soft under you, and warm, unbelievably warm, as if someone were sharing it with you. That’s when you remember where you are. You turn to face her, the Lioness herself, still asleep. You wonder how many have seen her like this. Her face is relaxed and calm, and for once her unstoppable force seems to be still. She breathes slow and deep, her chest rising and falling with each breath. She’s at peace, you realize, and her infectious nature seems to persist in sleep as well as you feel calm too. Then it hits you, what are you doing in the queen’s bed? You, a servant in the queens bed. You almost laugh, then another emotion washes over you. You’re nothing but a servant, in the queen’s bed. You’re most likely not the first, and you can’t imagine you will be the last. You’re still then. The sun streaming in through the window too bright all of a sudden. You’re just another servant, and you better get to work before you overstay your welcome. Getting up is difficult, as usual. Your skin feels forever too tight across your back, and the muscles there are stiff from sleep. You get out of the bed as quietly as you can, but hiss as your back must take your weight again. You limp over to the table with your clothes and cream on it. The cream helps a bit, the pain lessons as you slip on your dress, then tightening your corset enough to alleviate a bit of the strength needed from your back. Your apron is next, fixing it in place and wiping your hands on it. The first thing you do is start the fire again, proding the coals and adding more wood. When you finish, you quietly put away the towels and things from last night. Each item passing through your hands like a memory. You have to get out of here, but you want to stay. You want to tell her how long you have wanted her, how long you have worried when she was away, how long you have watched her at the balls, trying not to stare. But no, you know what you are, you have been told before, you serve, that is your job, that is what you do. That is what you deserve. You look at her one more time before you leave the room, a mistake you realize, as soon as you do. She is truly breathtaking like this, sighing in her sleep, and you would give anything to wake up by her forever, but you have nothing to give. 

Mornings are always busy in the palace, you rush to the kitchens to hopefully snag something to eat before you must get on with the day. A piece of bread will do quite nicely you decide, sitting for a moment with the rest of the staff. The head maid comes up to you after a moment, “Y/N!” You jump and look at her, she is usually kind, but something seems off. “You have a letter.” She says, handing you the paper in her hands. “I’m sorry, but you must be mistaken, I don’t get letters.” You say, bowing your head respectfully. “The delivery boy said it was from your father.” You freeze, no, it most certainly was not from your father, your father had died a long time ago, this was from the man who used to own you. The man who beat you senseless when you were just a child, the man who forced you to kiss him when he was drunk and wear a collar around your neck. He had no right, you had worked for years, saving every tip you got at his bar, selling all the trinkets he gave you for “favors” until you had enough. You had bought yourself, your freedom, and never looked back. What did he want from you now? You take the letter to your room you share with three other girls, thankfully they are all away for now. You worry a moment about your absense last night, but it is not uncommon for one of you to spend the night in town, you’ll have to tell them that’s where you were if they ask. You open the letter, reading it slowly, in shock. He says he has something for you, and to come to him immediately. You stare at the paper. It’s probably a lie, it’s almost definitely a lie, and yet, you know your curiosity will get the better of you. For now you tuck it beneath your cot, deciding that you can deal with it after getting some work done. But work means seeing her, which may hurt just as much as the scars on your back. You know you can’t think of it as anything else than her being bored. You know that if you let yourself think, hope, anything, you will only be more hurt in the end. As the queen’s maid servant, it would be rather difficult to avoid her. You can at least polish her armor for now, you can clean that in her armory, so you won’t technically have to be near her, besides she will have meetings today, about the battle, so you shouldn’t have to see her to much. “You alright, Y/N?” You jump at the voice behind you, another one of the girls. “Yes, sorry, just lost in thought.” She mumbled something as you go off to gather the queen’s armor. You reach the door and feel panic seize you. You attempt to shake it off and open the door quietly, you breathe a sigh of relief as you realize she is not there. You gather the armor off the table, and make another mistake. You look at the bed you shared with her last night, and you long to feel her arms around you, feel her whisper to you again. But no, you must move on, and get to work, the sooner the better. You take the armor to her private armory, laying it all out on the table in the center of the room. This is familiar to you, you can lose yourself in the work you know. Gathering the polish and rags from the drawers, you begin to polish piece by piece, you’re taking your time, perhaps more than you should. As you get lost in your work, the hours slip by, as you carefully mend each detail or her armor. It smells like her, like fire and iron, like passion and strength, and you get just as lost in that. Perhaps that is why you shout as someone burts through the door. 

“Y/N!” The head maid says exasperatedly, “finally, I have been looking for you everywhere!” You place your work on the table, “Is everything all right?” You ask, trying not to let your voice shake. She looks at you wearily, “Someone is here to see you.” You nod getting up to follow her, as you walk down to the servants quarters, you finally speak up, “ Do you know who it is?” The head maid looks at you quizzically, “Don’t you?” She asks, you shake your head, “A man, bald, he didn’t say what he wanted.” You nod, why on the continent anyone would want something from you is beyond you, but you follow her anyway. You round the corner to the room next to the servant’s entrance and freeze. He’s there. It can’t be him, there is no reason for him to be there, the man who used to own you has no reason to be here at all. “Hello, Y/N” he smiles, he looks you up and down, attempting to see through your clothes, just like he always did. “Why, aren’t you all grown up, workin in the palace now huh?” He asks, you look to the head maid for help, but she had already left. “You don’t belong here, Y/N.” He smiles again, liking the panic on your face. “You belong with me, I’m your man.” You shake your head, the air has been stolen from your lungs, but this is wrong, so very, very wrong. “I know how to take care of you, don’t you remember?” You turn, walking towards the door, as fast as you can without running. “Oh, I don’t think so Y/N” He grabs your shoulder, yanking you back, you pull away, now running for the door. But he doesn’t let go, you hear a ripping sound as your dress is torn, the neckline being ripped apart. You break free and run, you don’t know where you are going, but you can hear him behind you. Up the steps, around corners, just running, desperate to get away from him. “Haha, you really think you can get away from me, pet?” The word makes your blood turn to ice, but you keep going, you hear your name, but it’s not from behind you. There are doors in front of you, and you bust through them without thinking. “Where the hell is she!” You hear it, but you don’t register who it is coming from, he is almost on you, his hand just grazes your hair, you whip your head back in sheer panic, he is so close to you, you sprint forward, even faster before you hit someone. 

You’re in the floor, on your knees, and he is behind you still. “Come on pet!” He yells, you cry out as you pick yourself up, desperately trying to escape, but you can’t move. Someone is holding you, someone who smells like fire and iron. You can feel her arms around you, and look at her face, Calanthe, the lioness herself is looking down on you. Her eyes are on fire. You lean into her, breathing for a second, before you hear him. “Ah, so this is what you’re up to now, huh, pet?” You flinch at the word and you can feel her arms tighten around you. She isn’t wearing her crown or anything, you realize he may not know who she is. “I thought I had fixed you, but clearly not, you really are a deviant bitch!” You feel the woman holding you shake, you back away from her. You can’t turn to look at him, but you look at the woman in front of you. The disgust on her face as clear as day. “It’s allright,” you say, tears starting to come to your eyes. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you.” You feel one roll down your cheek, before you bow, you straighten yourself, but can’t bear to look at her. “I’m sorry you had to see this.” You turn to face the man. He smiles at you again. The blood drains from your face. You take a step forward, but you feel Calanthe come close you you, her hand rets on the small of your back, you gasp and look up at her. “Is this him?” Her voice is low, shaking with rage. All the disgust on her face pointed at him. You open your mouth but no words come out, “He is the one who gave you those scars?” You nod, slowly, looking down, a tear running down you face. “Ha, what are you crying for pet? I had to fix you, I guess I didn’t do a very good job by the looks of it! That’s allright pet, we can continue fixing you.” You shake in fear, but then Calanthe’s hand is on your face, she wipes the tear from your cheek with her thumb, her callused hand soft against your skin. She looks at the man in front of you. “Do you have any idea who you’re speaking to?” She says, the steel in her voice apparent, she was terrifyingly angry. He spoke up, “Another deviant I’m guessing, do you need fixed too?” He laughed and smiled, looking up and down her body. “You aren’t quite as pretty, but I’m sure we can work something out.” Now you shook with anger, before you could stop yourself, you moved towards him, your hand came down hard on his cheek, the sound of the slap echoing off the walls in the room. You looked at him, the anger in you boiling, “How dare you! To insult me is one thing, to hurt me, to whip me, to touch me is one thing. I am nothing, I may not be important or special, or worth anything, but you do not get to speak to her like that. She is not nothing! You are almost as low beneath her as I am, and you will not speak to her like she is some, nothing, like me!” He looks at you in shock. You reel back, realizing what you just said. He brings his hand to his face, glaring at you with pure hatred in his eyes, “Your going to pay for that, Y/N!” He lunges at you and you slam your eyes shut, unable to move, but he stops. The blow never comes, you open your eyes to find Calanthe in front of you. Her sword to his throat, “You touched her?” She says, her voice dangerously quiet, “You touched her, when she didn’t want it.” He turned red with rage, “She is a deviant, she needs fixed!” She chuckled, but this was not the laugh you had heard before, this was empty and cold. “I think you’ll find that you are the one who needs fixing” he struggled against the sword at his throat, “And who the hell are you to say that?” She smiled, “Oh, did I not introduce myself, I am Calanthe, recognize the name?” Her voice went up mockingly. “Do you know what the punishment for rape is in Cintra?” He turned white as a sheet. “Your majesty, I’m so sorry, if I had known, I meant no harm, she’s just a slave your majesty!” He squeaked as the blade cut into his throat, the queen continued. “The punishment is to remove the offending appendage.” He sobbed, his face turning red from tears. 

Calanthe called for the guards. “He is to be thrown in the dungeon, he is guilty of rape, and will be punished.” She then moved directly into his face. “And if you ever set foot in the palace agin, if you ever speak to Y/N again, I will have you executed before you can even think to beg.” He sobbed as the guards dragged him out. You looked at her in shock, “I, why did you, thank you.” You said, tears beginning to stream down your face. You sank to your knees on the floor, crying. It was over, she had made sure he could never hurt you again. She tossed her sword to the side. You looked up at her, confusion and concern written all over her face. “Y/N, did you really think I would let him hurt you?” She looked hurt, vulnerable, to see the Lioness vulnerable was shocking, and extremely painful for you. Your chest tightened as you stood up and went to her, “No, I just, I don’t understand. Why would you do that for me. I mean, if you’re embarrassed by what happened that’s allright, I know what I am, but you didn’t have to do that.” She stared into your eyes, hers unreadable, but so intense. It was like she was looking into your very soul. “You think I’m embarrassed?” She asked, her voice just a whisper. You trembled as she came close, resting her hands in your arms. “Aren’t you?” Her eyes darkened, “You really think you are worthless, you really think you deserve that?” Your breath caught in your throat, she was so close, so unbearably close, both to your body and your heart, in that moment she could shatter you completely. “Y/N, you are amazing. You deserve so much more, so much more than that.” Her voice wavered near the end. “You are more important and special, and everything than most of the people I’ve known in my life.” You couldn’t breathe, she was so close to you, you couldn’t breathe, “Oh, I,” she cut you off, kissing you slowly, tenderly, it was words she could not say, and feeling she could not express given to you. When you broke away she looked at you cautiously, she seemed almost scared, “I, I care about you.” You gasped and kissed her again, telling her everything she needed to know. When you broke away, this time you smiled at her, “I care about you too, Calanthe.” Her eyes darkened when you used her name. “I can’t beleive you hit him.” She said suddenly, you smiled, “Well, he can’t speak to you like that, and quite frankly he’s wrong.” She laughed, her full laugh again, a real one, that warmed you inside and out. “It is nice to have someone defending my honor for once.” She chuckled, before somehow moving even closer to you. This woman was torturing you and you swear she enjoyed it. “I do my best.” You said, quickly getting drunk off of her closeness.


	3. Three Dances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You dance three times the night of the party, each time for her, but when others try to force themselves, they quickly learn a dancer like you had tricks up her sleeves.

You were used to these kinds of parties, hell, sometimes you even enjoyed them, there was a lot of work to do, sure, but at least you could listen to music and see the drunken lords make fools of themselves. However, the best thing about these parties was always her. She was the best part of everything really. She looked miserable, it was almost comical how much she dreaded these things, the rules, the expectations, the traditions she didn’t want to follow, but even the scowl on her face couldn’t fully take away from her beauty. Her hair was done in a series of intricate braids, half up, half down, she hated her hair in her face. Still, the loose waves fell down over her shoulders, the braids criss crossing over them and behind, eventually creating a sort of nest for her crown. Her crown, it sat atop her head in a way that somehow commanded both power and grace. She looked almost ethereal, the warm light of the party bathing her in a glow. She wore a rich red dress made of velvet the color of wine with braided gold detailing around her waist. She was sitting now, leaning back, her elegant neck poised, yet strong. She had chosen a lower neckline than usual tonight, it revealed her collarbones and clung tight to her breasts and waist before dropping down. You could tell by the way she was sitting she was corseted. She hated those more than anything, often referring to them as “whores armor.” She would smile after getting a laugh out of you. Now she whispered to the men on either side of her, causing them to nod and chuckle, and occasionally blanch with fear or shock. She did love to get a reaction out of people. You kept your post on the side of the room, watching the tables and dancing in front of you. You did not have to serve tonight, as the queen’s maid servant the you were to attend, but simply to watch if she needed anything. You tried not to stare at her, at the way her hand would brush her collar when she laughed, or how her skirt would climb up, just to reveal her ankle when she crossed her legs. You felt very underdressed in your plain navy dress, though you did embroider your underbust corset over it and your sleeves to match, you had bought some white thread for mending, and decided to decorate a dress for these occasions. You couldn’t afford anything splendid, but your additions did brighten it up a bit. You crossed your legs and leaned against the wall behind you, your hair was up, as usual, but you did look nice enough. You had always been curvy, an ample bosom had helped you when you were forced to dance for men. You had been known for your small waist and curvy body. Thankfully, this meant that people tended to ignore your face. They used to call you The Buxom Belle if you were correct, you knew how you looked, the dress was simple, you had covered your cleavage, but the tightness of your corset sinched you into a nearly impossible hourglass, your breasts spilling overtop of your tiny waist. Some men had taken note of you, their hands occasionally brushing you as they walked past. It didn’t bother you too much, you were used to it in a way, and you were covered, your skirts created a protective layer between you and them. You watched the lords and ladies dance around to the music, some at least knew the steps, others muddled through it. You looked to Calanthe again, your queen, who looked so gorgeous simply sitting, slightly reclined on her throne. She hadn’t noticed you yet, you smiled. She normally saw you in work clothes, your corset sinched just enough to give your back some support and your breasts somewhat bound to make working easier. You knew what you were doing when you dressed tonight, and you hoped that her reaction would make it worthwhile. There is was, she had been scanning the room, taking a sip of her wine when she spotted you. Her knuckles turned white around the goblet as her eyes scanned you up and down. She crossed her legs yet again, and sat up straighter as a blush rose to her cheeks, she looked ravenous, staring at you with fire in her eyes. 

You smile at her, standing up from your wall and curtsying slightly, enough for her to see, but not let the others around you notice. When you righted yourself she could see everything, and her flush deepened, you could see her take a deep breath across the room. She whispered something to the man beside her, and you faded back into the background again, leaning against your wall, disappearing in the crowd. Her reaction had been worth it indeed. You smiled to yourself and let the music wash over you, the sound of the lute and various wooded instruments filling your ears. Someone cleared thier throat beside you, a rather nervous looking young man shuffling from foot to foot. “Can I help you?” You ask, smiling at the man, he nods, “Are you Y/N?” He asks you, looking around. “Yes, is everything alright?” He nods again, reaching out his hand. “I am to ask you for a dance.” He says, finding his confidence. “Oh,” you say, smiling gently, “I am honored, but I am afraid I am working tonight, I am her majesty’s maid servant.” He shakes his head. “It was her who asked me to dance with you.” You look over his shoulder to a smirking Calanthe with an almost predatory look on her face. She’s playing with you, seeing how much of a show you will give her, she probably expects you to fluster and stumble through the steps. You had never told her the exact nature of what you had to do at the tavern, what kind of slave you were, how you danced. But you figured maybe you could use your talents for something. You smile and take the boy’s hand, heading to the dance floor. He smiles and awkwardly places his hand on your waist, you chuckle, “It’s alright, you may hold me, I don’t mind a good dance.” Then he really smiles, his hand moving to your lower back, pulling you in tight. It’s a fast dance, and you smile as he begins whirling you around. He’s a good dancer, good enough. He dips you at the right times and pulls you close at others. The music pics up and you separate for a moment, your eyes catching Calanthe, who watches you with interest, she’s surprised, but it doesn’t show much on her face yet. You give her a sly smile as you move into your partner again, this time laying your hands on him much more seductively, moving your hips and twisting your body with the fast rhythm. The music slows a bit and you smile, a slow, sensual song starts to play, some women leave the floor, it’s a more complicated step, even at its slower speed. You look at the man questioningly, he nods to you, indicating he knows the music. It’s not very popular at parties like this, it comes from the east of the continent, and is most commonly played in those lands. It is an easy step to learn for the men, but complicated for women. It is a slow, enchanting style, too fluid for many of the upper class women of the court. To dance it you must be languid and flexible, no wonder it was popular in the taverns. You look to to the queen, her smirk has doubled, she expects you to walk away, like the majority of the women. You smile right back. 

It has been a while, but you remember the movement easily enough. Your man leads you, dipping you low in a sweeping motion, almost to the floor. You see the rest of the guests watching the eight women still dancing. You wrap your arms around him and allow him to guide you. Your steps are low, dragging across the floor, you sweep you leg around behind you to turn away from your man, spinning and bringing your arms among your head. Twisting around as his hands snake around your waist to pull you into him. You see another woman leave the floor, her man trailing behind her. You turn away from your man, flicking you leg back to catch on his thigh as his arms drag up your to your waist, one leading your hand out to your side. He holds you tight and you lean your head back on his chest. Your legs move, a few fast steps, then an agonizingly slow one. The dance is a tease, one you know well. You catch Calanthe’s eyes, now there is shock in her face and lust in her eyes as she looks at you. Trailing every movement, you close your eyes and tilt your head back, angling yourself and you man to give her a better view of your twisting body. He turns you into himself, then dips you low, you look at her with a smile on your face as you nearly bend over backwards, all for her. Her eyes go wide, her lips part ever so slightly. You hear a man gasp as you bring your leg up to your partner’s waist, wrapping it around him. He spins the both of you, holding on to your hips as you bend back even more and lift your arms behind you. As you come up, you see three more couples leave, unable to keep up. The music picks up slightly, you cling to your partner as you come up twisting your leg around and off of him. Now there are many eyes on you. Your hear another woman trip as your partner spins you out, only for you to be caught by another man. The crowd gasps as you move your body to his, allowing him to twirl you impossibly fast then lift you. He picks you up by the hips turning you to face away from him. Your leg comes around his back, you lay over his shoulder, again bending slowly as he continues to spin you both. You catch Calanthe’s eyes again, she looks almost ragged staring at you, her mouth hanging open slightly. You slide down the man’s body, to sit on your heels as he twists you using your arm above. You come up again, and now a third man enters your dance, all the other couples have left. He pulls you away roughly, sweeping you up and lifting you in a circle. You laugh as his hands come to yours and he firmly twists you one way then another. Your original partner pulls you away this time, into his chest. The second man comes behind you to place his hands on your hips as you glide across the floor. The firm man seems to have sat down. Hands fight over your body, both men pulling you either way, spinning and lifting you again and again, each time the guests gasping and murmuring. The music swells and the two men grapple over you, leaving you time to twist away from both of them and allow yourself to fall into one man, pushing him away and then the other, only to land in between them with your hands on your hips as the music stops. The room erupts into applause, and you curtsy to both men before making your way towards the queen’s table. You smile at her and curtsy deeply, you can see how her breath is coming short and her hands are white around her goblet. You move slowly to your spot on the wall, watching the rest of the party, and your queen squirm, as it dies down. Eventually the guests leave, and you help your fellow servants by beginning to clean up a bit before heading up to help your queen prepare for bed. 

You stop outside her door, there are voices, you hear hers first, a whisper, she sounds pained. Then you hear men, it sounds like a few, all hushed, but aggressive. You open the door slowly. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, two men are holding her arms as another holds a knife to her throat. His hands grabbing at her thighs. “Well, the mighty lioness is nothing but a kitten without her sword huh?” He laughs at her, she spits in his face. “You’ll pay for that, bitch!” He slaps her, she grunts as he body jerks to the side. You know what this is, you’ve seen this countless times before, men behind the tavern, they corner a woman and force themselves on her to make them feel powerful. You know their type. Calanthe, for the first time, looks scared. She can’t fight, and they’re going to force her to do something horrible. You move quickly. Sitting yourself on the table on the opposite side of the room to her bed. There is a coat of arms with swords above the headboard. You just need to buy her time. The man moves to lift her skirt and she whimpers. Anger rips through your body at that, to make her feel like that, you are going to destroy these men. You know what to do, you pull your neckline down and arch your back, exposing the tops of your breasts. “Excuse me gentleman.” You smile as they turn around to you. Calanthe goes white. She’s no longer in danger for a moment. But she looks at their faces and knows. She looks at you in pure shock, she wants to protect you, but now you need to protect her. “Who the hell are you, pretty lady.” One of the men, seemingly the leader, pipes up. “Oh, I’m sure we’ve met before, what’s the matter, you don’t recognize me?” You ask them, playing with the hem of your skirt. They’re the kind of men who would have paid to see you dance before, you just hope it works now. One of the men chuckles, “You danced at the party, didn’t you. Haven’t seen anyone dance like that for a while. ‘Specially not in a place like this.” He laughes “Kitten here is a real prude!” You smile at the men, “Isn’t she, maybe I’d still be working if it wasn’t for her.” Calanthe looks at you with pain in her eyes. The betrayal there breaks your heart. You just need to play along long enough for her to get to the swords. “Working?” Another of the men asks, loosening his grip on Calanthe. You smile as he takes the bait. “Oh, well I used to dance you know. Really dance, at a tavern on the outside of town.” The men smile wide at that. The leader mumbles something to his men, one of them lets go of Calanthe as they approach you. “Yes, I made something of a name for myself,” you smile, getting up on your knees in the table, you reach behind you and begin to unlace the corset overtop your dress. “The Boxum Belle they used to call me,” the men’s eyes bug as you remove the corset, bringing your hands behind you to unlace the dress. One of the men stutters, “You, you’re the Buxom Belle?” 

You smile wider, the dress coming off your shoulders. “In the flesh!” The men look at each other. “Tell you what,” you start, “I’m not exactly a fan of how the queen runs things either, how about we give her a little show, huh?” You drop the dress. It pools around your knees. Leaving you topless with just your petticoats on. The men nod frantically as you begin to untie them. “Come get a closer look why don’t you? It’s not like she’s going anywhere.” The man holding Calanthe hesitates. “What? Don’t you want to touch?” You drop the skirts and stand on the table, leaving yourself completely naked in front of them. You run your hands up and down your body, swaying your hips to music that’s isn’t there. The men come closer, and you sink slowly to your knees. They reach to touch your breasts, grabbing you harshly, desperate to touch. You hate it. You feel nothing but hate as you force your breath to hitch and moan, brining your arms above you. You bend backwards, giving them a view they can’t resist. The final man comes over, seemingly entranced by you. You almost laugh, men are so daft. You make fists in the air and cross your hands above your head, trying to make it look like two crossing swords. Your eyes lock with Calanthe, the men are getting pushier. You pray she gets it as hands start to crawl up your thighs, some coming to grab at your throat and hair. You rock your body, letting your hair fall loose around you as you pull a pin. The three men are on you now, completely caught up in your body. Calanthe looks terrified, no, horrified, weather at the men or you, you can’t quite tell. Then she gets it. Her eyes widen as she looks behind her. You force yourself to moan louder as she draws the sword. They are so close, too close, they’re going to do it, you realize, they’re going to try to take you. And then it stops. Blood sprays your face as a sword cuts through one man’s neck. The other two scream. But she’s too fast. She plunges her sword into one man’s ribs before finally slitting the last man’s throat. She looks at the bodies on the ground, frozen. She’s shaking. You realize she has been trained to fight, trained in battle, trained to defeat men and kill, but she has never been trained for this. You remeber the first time someone tried to force you, how terrified you were. You come down off the table, over to her. Her eyes don’t leave the floor as you slowly take the sword and set it down. “It’s alright, everything is going to be alright.” You lead her to the bed and sit her down. “It’s over now, they can’t hurt you, did they touch you?” You ask, your voice catching in your throat. She shakes her head. “Oh, thank god.” You gasp. “It’s going to be alright, I promise, I’ll make it go away.” You quickly slip on your outer dress, not bothering to tie it, and lead Calanthe into the bathroom, drawing her a bath. You run out to the main hall, calling the guards, you rush to the room and instruct them to take the bodies away and to not come back. They nod, seemingly too frightened to ask questions. You rush into the barhroom. “Hey, can you look at me?” You ask her, leading her face towards yours. The second her eyes meet yours she melts, pulling you close and holding onto you for dear life. You can feel her shake as she tries to hold back the sobs. You run you hand over her back gently, holding her tight. “I know, I know.” You just hold each other, you have no idea how long it takes. but you hold each other until she stops shaking. 

She pulls away and looks at you dead In the eye. The horror on her face says it all. “I suppose I didn’t tell you exactly what I did.” You look down, but she doesn’t let go. “The man that owned me, his tavern was a dance house. I never had to have sex with them, don’t worry, just him.” Your voice wavers, but right now you need to be strong. You need to be strong for her, for your queen. “But I was expected to entertain the customers, and sometimes that meant a bit of touching. I needed to distract them, that’s the only way I know how.” You pause, desperation seeping into your voice, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Calanthe. I didn’t mean any of those things, I just” she cuts you off with a kiss, pulling you in close. “You did that for me?” She asks. “You let them touch you for me?” There is disbelief in her voice. She looks at you with tears In her eyes. You smile up at her, “Of course, I may not wield a sword, but I swear I will protect you, any way I can. Always.” She begins to shake again. “It’s alright now, they’re gone, you got rid of them, they can’t touch you.” You begin, cupping her face. She smiles down at you, “You want to protect me?” There are tears In Her eyes and a laugh on her breath. “Yes,” you pause, trying to find the words. “as long as I live Calanthe, I will do everything I can to make you happy, to protect you from all the scum and asses in the world. I,” your voice breaks as you realize what you’re about to say. “I love you.” Now there are tears behind your eyes too. She gasps and falters for a moment before her smile grows, “I love you too, Y/N.” You kiss her fiercely, she may be taller than you but it doesn’t stop you from grabbing on. She holds onto you for dear life as you fist your hands through her hair. Her hands fly to the back of your dress. You laugh as she fumbles with the ties. You pull away. She’s breathless again. “God, Y/N, you can dance.” You laugh outright this time. “I should hope so, did you enjoy the little show I have you?” Her eyes darken and she lunges at you again, but you place your hands on her shoulders. “Easy, clean yourself up, I ran you a bath. I need to wash their hands off of me anyway.” She smiles wickedly at you as you turn to leave. “Who said you have to go to bathe?” She pulls you in close for a kiss, and she doesn’t let go until morning, and you dance for her all night long.


End file.
